Popcorn and Memory

She was telling me about research her lab at MIT is conducting that shows opening microwave doors during a cycle causes our brains to be bombarded with enough electrons that we’ll forget who we are and be compelled to run away. “Don’t worry. It’s cumulative,” she said.

I chuckled nervously, thinking about my own microwave habits. I opened and shut that door so often it might as well be a screen door. “How many exposures before memory starts to be effected?” I asked, pen poised over my reporter’s notebook.

"Depends. Some people seem to be able to withstand more than others. Not sure why, but I reckon some people just got more they're eager to forget. Makes 'em easy targets."

I thought of my best friend and how she’d completely forgotten who she was after her breakup — was she the victim of one of these botched memory extractions?

They always tried to manipulate her mind, to make her feel better, they extracted from her what came to be the person who disappointed her, I suppose. Will she still have a fragment of his memory?

When the lights turned on she up got out of her chair and left the examination room. Waiting by reception was a stranger—at first. As the gap closed between them she became overwhelmed with relief. "I know you," she said through a quivering smile. "They did not steal everything."